The Desert Pirates
by ScientistSalarian
Summary: <html><head></head>When the Courier thinks that the Mojave is at peace under the NCR, soldiers and civilians start getting killed. It is up to the Courier to stop the mysterious group responsible for it before they destroy everything they worked to achieve. OC Courier/Cass, & OC Companion Mature violence and language</html>
1. Prologue

Two NCR soldiers walked slowly along a cracked and dusty road. It was far too hot and dry for them to keep up the parade-ground marching method they were taught at boot camp for long, and they had resorted to just tramping along like any other would, constantly taking sips from the canteens at their belts, their rifles held over their shoulders on straps, angled away from their bodies so the metal components of the weapons, heated by hours in the desert sun didn't come into contact and burn their skin. They were meant to be on patrol duty, but both of them knew that there were no fiends or raiders along this section of road; they were just being kept out of McCarran so the heat and the boredom didn't raise tempers high enough for any actual trouble to be started.

After the fabled Courier seemingly appeared out of no-where, utterly decimated the slave army of Caesar's Legion, and pretty much gave the New California Republic the Mojave Desert, New Vegas and all wrapped up in a nice bow, and then disappeared again, things had been going pretty easy. The fiend leaders had been killed off by the Courier, at times with help from the First Recon sniper unit, factions like the Brotherhood of Steel and the Boomers had been talked into grudging alliances, once again by the Courier, and Great Khans had disappeared from Red Rock Canyon, presumably during the Second Battle for Hoover Dam.

What this meant for the basic infantry of the NCR armed forces was; being stuck in an unforgivable desert, on useless patrols and guard duty, protecting important locations from 'possible threats', even though everyone knew that the people of the Mojave were suitably cowed after the NCR showed their strength a second time, and defeating Caesar's Legion for good. Despite the relative safety of the Mojave desert, places like Hoover Dam, Camp McCarran and Helios one were just too important to the Republic to just left unmanned, which meant that the colonisation campaign was reaching its fifteenth year, and both the soldiers and civilians of the NCR were getting sick of it.

Despite several attempts to vote the withdrawal of NCR soldiers from the Mojave, President Kimball seemed more determined than ever after his assassination attempt to take over and ultimately 'civilise' the wild desert. Such political and national concerns were not the main topic of conversation between Privates Benjamin 'Nuts' Wilsons and Freddy 'Bolts' Richards.

"Look B, all I'm saying is; a hooker is a hooker, and I got every right to buy her as you do, as is any guy in this whole fucking desert" Nuts threw his arms up to emphasise his point. Bolts, who had been staring at the ground angrily, rounded on his friend. "And what _I'm_ saying, _N _is that if you're as good a friend as you claim you are, you wouldn't do that, and you would also discourage the other guys from even fucking _thinking_ about buying time with Jasmine, because I _also _told you that I love her!" Nuts remained calm, and shook his head sadly, wiping sweat away from his forehead with the back of his sleeve. "A soldier falling in love with a whore, do you know how cliché that sounds?" "I don't care what you think Nuts, love is love. " Bolts huffed "I'm gonna get her outta Gomorrah, and then I'm gonna retire. We're gonna move back to New Reno, and we're gonna be happy together." Nuts barked out harsh laughter, and grabbed Bolts' shoulder, forcing him around and glaring into his eyes, suddenly as angry as his fellow soldier was. "Wilf, we've known each other since we were kids, you're my best friend. We've been through boot camp, the pacification campaign we managed to fight our way through two fucking battles with Caesar's Legion for fuck's sake. We got out of that alive, and I'm not gonna let you get yourself killed with this. You _don't _mess with the Omertas, man. You will get yourself killed if you mess with this girl." Bolts shoved Nuts away, and started walking away. After a few moments, he turned back around, and yelled at Nuts. "I don't give a fuck what you think, I told you I love he-"

"What a delightful conversation you folks are having"

The soldiers span around from their heated conversation to find a thin man wearing a black leather skull cap, goggled and what appeared to be conventional leather armour, but stripped down to be even lighter and less restrictive than a normal suit. The man was leaning against a large rock only a few feet away, making the NCR soldiers wonder how they didn't notice him earlier. He seemed to be examining the dirt under his nails as spoke, never looking up at the men he was addressing.

"You know, it's nice to see that even after you took over our country, stole what was rightfully our and continue to brutalize our people, you still got your priorities right. And for the record? It is kinda cliché. Don't you think, Ruby?" An attractive young redhead came out from behind the rock, wearing a pair of tattered shorts and a sleeveless jacket, with a bulky revolver in her hand. She leant against the man's shoulder, and smiled seductively at the soldiers, whose grips had tensed on their rifles at the sudden interruption of their conversation. "Yeah, I've always thought people that fell in love with whores were thicker than Brahmin shit. Don't you know what being a whore means?"

Nuts and Bolts had been completely frozen with shock during this, completely unprepared for this couple to suddenly appear and start berating them. Bolts; already agitated by his argument with Nuts, unslung his rifle, and held it tightly in his hands as he stared down the two strangers. "You people have no right to listen in conversations like that, now be on your way...unless you want some trouble."

The man smiled, but his eyes were hidden by the goggles, meaning the smile could suggest anything. His left hand drifted down to a bulky holster strapped to his thigh, a sawed-off shotgun held within. "And what if we are looking for trouble?" Nuts and Bolts narrowed their eyes, and kept their hands tight on their weapons. "What if we're looking…for blood!" The man ripped the shotgun from its leather confines, and levelled it at Nuts. He was still smiling coldly when he unloaded both barrels into the soldier's chest. Nuts was launched off of his feet by the power of the shotgun blast, his body armour shredded by dozens of holes. Bolts' eyes widened in shock and rage. "Noooooo!" He screamed as he raised his rifle at the man. The girl he had Ruby was quicker however, her revolver was already up, and she fired at Bolts, the shot winging the side of his neck, blood spurting from the wound. Bolts staggered sideways, clamping a hand over the round. He tried to aim his rifle one handed, but Ruby fired again, smashing another bullet into the soldier's knee, forcing him to the ground. Bolts tried to stand, but blood was quickly spreading and staining his trousers, and he gave up.

Nuts was coughing heavily, and slowly starting to stand up when the man suddenly jumped over him and pulled a length of lead pipe from his belt, and after a moment's pause, slammed it into Nut's forehead. His head made a sickening smacking sound as it bounced on the concrete underneath it. The man hit again and again, his smile replaced with a snarl of viscous hatred. Nut's face was steadily becoming in unrecognisable blood-covered mess. Bolt's struggled to get back to his feet again. "Get off of him you fucking monster! Get off of him!" His injured knee was forced painfully into the ground by Ruby leaning her weight onto his shoulders from behind, Bolts cried out in pain, and flinched as Ruby pushed the cold metal of her gun barrel into his cheek. She leant down so her mouth was just by his ear.

"You're gonna watch your best friend die, and when he's dead, I'm gonna kill you. I want you to think about all those people you are failing, by just kneeling there. Think of Nuts, having his fucking face smashed in right in front of you. Think of Jasmine, your one true love, getting ploughed by a different man every night, till one guy gets too rough, and she fights back, and she gets fucking murdered in her room, all because you were too weak to save her." Bolts struggled feebly, tears running down his face as the attacker's lead pipe smashed into Nut's face over and over, pummelling his head until it caved it.

After what seemed like forever, the lead pipe's assault slowed, then stopped all together. The man dropped the bloodied pipe on the ground, and stepped away, panting heavily. He turned around and stormed towards Bolts' sobbing form, and kicked him hard in the side of the head just as Ruby let him go. The woman seemed a little hesitant. "You okay Ricky?" Ricky looked up sharply from looking down at Bolts, and attempted a weak smile. "Yeah…yeah, I'm fine. Let's just clean up and run, you never know who's watching." He stood up, and collected his pipe, shaking the worst of the blood off before slotting back onto his belt. He pulled his shotgun out, and loaded two fresh shells.

Bolts raised himself unsteadily to his elbows, and looked up at the man carrying death towards you. He opened lips that were suddenly extremely dry, and asked. "Why are you doing this?"

Ricky closed the shotgun with a flick of his wrist and a loud snap. He aimed the weapon down at Bolt's head, and replied. "Because you don't belong here". The last thing Bolts ever saw was the flash.


	2. Chapter 1: Back to Work

The Courier sat in the kitchen of the Lucky 38's presidential suite, a mug of coffee and a wasteland omelette in front of him. He had to admit; though having to get a deathclaw egg every time he wanted to make one was suicidal, it was damn tasty. The Courier took a swig of his coffee, and reached down to scratch the cyber-dog next to him behind the ears. Though Rex still technically belonged to the King, The Courier had sort of adopted him, to ease the stress that now permanently plagued the King, as he and his gang constantly had to battle NCR officials to keep order in Freeside.

"Hey Jack"

The Courier smiled, not just because it was the woman he loved saying his name, but because he had a name at all. When he had woken up in Goodsprings after being shot, close to two years ago, The Courier had absolutely no memory of his life before. Some holes had been filled in after his conversation with Ulysses, deep in the Divide, but there were many questions still unanswered; his name for one thing. Instead of going on some fruitless quest in the attempt to discover his old life, The Courier decided to simply choose a new name, and continue with the life he had made for himself in the Mojave. His name was Jack Striker, and he was proud of it. People had always called him Jack anyway, thanks to the tattoo on his left forearm. It was a simple tattoo, a few words in black ink, surrounded by decorative swirls. The tattoo said 'The Jack's Still Royalty'. Jack had no clue what it meant, despite trying to work it out for a long time. Jack's thought pattern was broken by Cass; still wearing only a nightdress, sliding into his lap. She smiled at him, and ran a hand through his thick black hair.

"What's gotten you all distracted?" Jack smiled back, and planted a kiss on her lips, savouring her warmth and smell. "Nothing, just daydreaming. You want some breakfast?" Cass gave Jack a cunning smile, which he knew never meant anything good. "Sure do, but I was reckonin' I was just gonna eat yours, what with you being busy and all." Jack raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "And what am I busy doing?" Cass took the fork from his hand, swivelled around and stabbed herself a chunk of omelette, she popped it into her mouth, and spoke as she chewed. "Victor called from downstairs. 'Parently there's some NCR fella lookin' for ya, says it's urgent." Jack threw back his head and groaned, making Rex look up in confusion. "Don't these damn politicians know what a retirement is?" He complained, but slid out from under Cass all the same. He stretched out his athletic frame, and ran a hand over his course stubble. Cass, now attacking the omelette with signs of full enjoyment, looked up, and swallowed. "You gonna shave before you go?" Jack frowned. "Fuck that, if the NCR expects me to turn up looking smart; they don't know me that well." Cass laughed. "That's my man! I'll see ya later." Seemingly dismissed, Jack shook his head with amusement, and walked back to his and Cass' bedroom, Rex at his heels.

Jack took his pyjamas off, threw them onto the bed, and moved to one of the small wardrobes on the left side of the room that held all his clothes and armour, as well as a few weirder pieces he had collected during his travels. He decided to go with his standard gear; Jack had never felt comfortable in a suit, no matter how 'smokin' hot' Cass claimed it made him look. He slipped into a pair of black combat trousers, pulled on his boots and pulled a grey vest over his head. This was followed by a tattered and hole-ridden hoodie, originally white but now the colour of desert sand from years of use. Jack had bought the hoodie from the Goodspring's General Store the first day he had woken up, and never thrown it away since. He had torn the sleeves off years ago, as he liked to keep his arms free during a fight, and the hem was so frayed, it looked like he was wearing part of a sack instead of clothing. If it wasn't for the hood and barely-recognisable logo of some long-dead band in the chest, he very much could have. Over the top he shrugged into his duster, a beautifully made black number, with no sleeves and the NCR's flag painted onto the back; a gift from Ulysses, after Jack had managed to persuade him not to fire a nuclear missile at the NCR's major trade route into the Mojave.

Jack had no intentions of getting into a fight when he went to the NCR embassy, but he had learned never to go anywhere without some form of weapon, so he grabbed his pistol and its holster from his desk. It was a strange, heavily modified revolver that fired rifle rounds and had LED lights on the side. He strapped it to his leg, and as an afterthought attached a combat knife and its sheath to his belt. Comfortably dressed, Jack opened the bedroom door, and crossed the corridor to step into the elevator, Rex wagging his tail right next to him. They rattled their way down the elevator shaft to the casino floor, and exited to find Victor's happy smiling face waiting for them.

After the NCR ordered Jack to assassinate Mr. House, he had wondered what was going to happen to Victor and the other Securitrons. The answer had come when Jack had finally gotten around to snooping through Benny's private suite after having the key in his pocket for weeks. Instead of a secret stash of bottle caps, Jack found a hole in the wall, which lead to a room within which was an extremely creepy Securitron with its own personality. After questioning it for only a few minutes, Jack found out that Benny had had the artificial intelligence built by the Followers of the Apocalypse, so that he could use the Platinum Chip that he had stolen off of Jack on that fateful night to take over the Lucky 38, and the rest of the New Vegas Strip for himself. Jack mostly forgot about Yes Man until after Mr. House was already dead, when he had had an idea. He brought the robot back to the Followers, and after cashing in a few favours they owed him, he had them re-write Yes Man's code, so that he only followed orders from certain voices; namely Jack's. He then uploaded the AI to House's computer in the Lucky 38's penthouse, and told him to make the Securitrons do what they did before.

Mildly surprisingly to Jack, that was exactly what Yes Man did, it was like nothing had happened in the strip, and aside from a Follower coming round every week to perform maintenance, and make sure Yes Man hadn't done anything computer related that Jack honestly didn't understand a word of, everything was pretty normal. To Jack's relief, Victor had not been affected by Yes Man's upload; he liked the robot, and was a useful 'assistant' whenever Jack needed and errand run on The Strip or Freeside.

Victor waved his metallic claw at Jack as he and Rex stepped out of the elevator. "Howdy partner!" The robot called cheerfully. Jack smiled, and began to walk towards the casino's main doors, Victor squeaking along next to him. "You know what this NCR guy wants, Victor?" The TV screen that all securitrons had in the middle of their bodies changed to static momentarily, and replaced the normally smiling cowboy face to a frowning angry one. "No sir, he did not tell me! That darn varmint just strode up to me like he were the sheriff of this here town, and demanded that he come see you. I had to get a few o' the boys over so he didn't just barge past me. That fella had no mud on his boots, if ya catch my meanin', he were a pen-pushin' office boy and no mistake" His screen returned to normal.

Jack sighed and mentally prepared himself for the will-sapping bullshit and bureaucracy that he was about to face. Jack didn't like the NCR that much, but they had good intentions, and they were sure as hell better than leaving the Mojave to Caesar or House. "Alright, is he outside?" Victor tilted forward slightly on his one large wheel, as if attempting to simulate a nod of conformation. "Yep, good luck partner" Jack waved as he opened the door, Rex weaving through his legs to sprint out into the sun and fresh air. "See ya later Victor" Jack called over his shoulder. "Happy Trails!" Came Victor's reply as Jack shut the door behind him.

Rex had bounded off to accost a random man that had been walking down the street, eating a squirrel-on-a-stick. Jack's attention was taken up by the angry looking man in front of him, his arms crossed over a khaki shirt and brown tie. "You The Courier?" He demanded. Jack pointed over his shoulder as he replied. "No, I'm the other guy that lives in the Lucky 38. Watta ya want?" The man looked him up and down, and scowled. "You don't look like much." Jack's fought to keep his expression neutral. "A lot of people say that. I ask again, what do you want?" The man's scowl increased, he huffed. "I was ordered to escort you to the NCR Embassy, where Brigadier General Hsu awaits to brief you on your new assignment" Jack raised an eyebrow. "Last time I checked, the NCR gave me a golden branch award thing, not conscription papers. I ain't a soldier, hell I ain't even an NCR citizen technically. You can't tell me what to do" As the NCR staff officer was about to give a furious response, Jack interrupted him. "On the other hand, I kind of like Hsu, he's definitely better than Oliver, who was kind of an asshole to me, so I accept his invitation to come and see him. C'mon." He strode off without another word, leaving the officer to stare after him with his mouth open for a few moments, until finally regaining his senses and hurrying after him.

Jack strode through the Strip, the gates opening automatically by securitrons as he approached. Rex joined them as he walked past the Ultra Luxe, wagging his tail and panting happily. The NCR officer tried to keep up as best he could without jogging, but the small man struggled to comfortably keep up with Jack's long strides. There weren't many people out on the street; the Strip was never truly alive until night time, but those that were there nodded to him in recognition. Everyone knew the Courier that killed Legate Lanius.

The NCR Embassy's gate was guarded by a pair of Military Policeman, cattle prods at their wastes. When they saw Jack flanked by the NCR officer, they opened the gate and stood to attention. The NCR officer rushed ahead of Jack and opened the door to the embassy building first, seemingly seeing this as some form of victory. Jack knelt down and rubbed Rex under the chin. "Wait here boy, I'll be right back." Jack entered the building and wound his way through the bland corridors to Ambassador Crocker's office. As he entered the room, he couldn't help but notice that instead of the Ambassador behind the desk, Brigadier General Hsu stood in front of it, hands clasped behind his back.

After General Lee Oliver was declared a hero after the Second Battle for Hoover Dam, he returned to the NCR's capital to peruse a political career, leaving Colonel Hsu as the commanding officer of the NCR military presence in the Mojave. With Oliver finally out of the way, nothing stood in the way of the promotions that Hsu rightly deserved, he was awarded the rank of Brigadier General only weeks after Oliver left, with a highly likely chance of becoming a general in a few years. Hsu's level headed calmness and common sense, which to Jack seemed to be a very rare quality in NCR officers meant that the trouble between soldiers and locals, whilst still bad, wasn't as disastrous as could be.

Jack liked Hsu, they had worked together quite a few times, discovering a spy in Camp McCarran, and then proceeding to find and deactivate an explosion hidden in the monorail. He smiled politely as he entered the room, and leant against the wall opposite the Brigadier General. Hsu nodded to him, and moved over to shut the door, making their conversation was private. He turned back around. "Thanks for coming, Courier. The NCR needs your help again" Jack snorted.

"Firstly, calling me 'The Courier' got old two years ago, and secondly; I am sad to say I'm not surprised" Hsu smiled, but there was no humour behind it. He was obviously uncomfortable with asking Jack to bail the NCR out again. "Very well Mr Striker, I'm sorry to hear you have such little faith in us. In all honesty though, we're in over our heads on this, and we need someone who knows these lands better than we do. The NCR have had a presence in the Mojave for close to fifteen years, but we're still just as much strangers as the first day we arrived." Jack shook his head, a little confused.

"Yeah, yeah. People still hate the NCR, your soldiers are running wild in the towns cuz their bored and taking it out on the locals. What has this got to do with me being here?" Hsu walked behind the desk, and opened a draw. He pulled a fairly thick sheaf of papers out of it, and slapped it down on the desk. "I won't bore you with the details, but these are some reports of soldiers over the last few months. People are going missing. Our people. Soldiers, civilians. Sometimes they turn up, but never in a pretty state. We are being hunted, Jack. Someone is telling the NCR that they have outstayed our welcome. We need you to look into this." Jack frowned. "Why don't you just get a platoon of your best guys, and search the area that people are disappearing in." Hsu replied by once again going to the drawer, this time taking out a map of map of the Mojave, covered in red crosses. "Because it's not in one place. It's all over. Military patrols, caravans. Hell, even once a guy leaving a bar to take a piss. It seems like if you consider yourself a part of the NCR, you're a target." Jack leaned over the map, trying to take in the magnitude of what Hsu was telling him. "So, what? The entire Mojave is rebelling against you?" Hsu half nodded. "It could be that. But if I'm going to sleep tonight, I would like to think it's the other option." Jack looked up from the map. "Which is?" "A single group of extremely well trained and organised guerrilla fighters. The men have started calling them the Desert Pirates." Jack shook his head in disbelief. "What sort of people could do something like that? Even the Brotherhood of Steel would seriously struggle to do something like that. You'd need to be-" Hsu interrupted him. "A veteran NCR Ranger?"

Jack paused, and looked up at the Brigadier General. His face was as always blank and impassive. "Are you telling me there's a veteran NCR Ranger out there somewhere managing the systematic murdering of NCR personnel?" Hsu nodded, and flicked through the papers on the desk, handing Jack a sheet of block text.

"Jonathan Grahams, codename Fox. He was a Desert Ranger long before the Ranger Unification Treaty. He never agreed with it. He had a record of disobeying orders, starting fights in the mess hall, things like that. We would have had him out on his ass if we wasn't such a damn good ranger. His brother, Wolf helped keep him in line, but he died two years ago when Ranger Station Charlie was hit. Fox got worse, a lot worse. It culminated when he murdered Major Dhatri in his sleep when he was at McCarran for a debriefing. They had never met each other before; Fox just snapped, opened the Major's throat and disappeared."

Jack's mouth tightened as he thought of the old soldier. "He was a good man. Dhatri helped me deal with the Fiends. Though cutting off their heads was a pain in the ass." He grimaced, and looked at Hsu. "What would you have me do?"

Brigadier General Hsu was all business, but Jack could see a hint of relief as he spoke. "I need you to find these bastards. The locals don't hate you, which is a serious advantage that we do not have. Good luck Jack, I have a feeling you're going to need it.

Jack left the NCR Embassy a little light-headed. He thought that with the Legion gone, the Mojave would be peaceful. Yeah the NCR cause a lot of trouble, but they also helped a lot, gave the whole desert power from Helios One and Hoover Dam. They even started funding the Followers of the Apocalypse in the Mormon fort again, after Jack pushed them a little. He just couldn't understand how someone could hate them enough to just start randomly murdering them. Jack had looked at the reports before he had left. Whole families were found butchered on the roadside, children and all. Jack's fist tightened as he remembered the description of the twins that had been hung in their own home, their mother raped and their father mutilated and tortured. He was going to find them, and stop them. But he was going to need help.

By the time the elevator reached the Lucky 38's presidential suite, Jack had calmed himself down a little. He stepped out with Rex, to find Cass already standing there, dressed with shotgun in hand. Jack raised an eyebrow. "Going somewhere?" Cass gave him a lopsided grin. "Yep, I was figurin' that the only reason the NCR wanted you was to do their dirty work again, so I'm ready when you are. Where we headin'?" Jack smiled, stepped aside to let Cass into the elevator, going back in behind her. "Goodsprings first, we're gonna need some help with this one. I'll explain on the way."


	3. Chapter 2: Within the Fox's Lair

Fox took a drag from the cigarette in his hand, and walked slowly over to the NCR Sergeant tied to a chair in front of him. The man had been stripped of his armour and beaten; blood stained the front of his fatigues. He didn't know it, but the man's suffering had barely begun as long as Fox had anything to do with it. He lowered himself to one knee, so that he could look the soldier in the eye. He blew smoke in the man's face to keep him awake; his eyes had started to droop. "Do you know why I hate the NCR, son?" The soldier, raised his head slowly, his nose and mouth hidden behind a bloody mask. He was breathing heavily; Dozer's onslaught must have broken a few of his ribs. "Fuck…you…" The man managed, blood dripping off his lips onto his shirt. Fox chuckled, and looked up to one of the men standing behind the captured soldier.

"Y'hear that Dozer? I told you this guy weren't gonna break. You owe me a beer." Dozer grinned stupidly at Fox, probably not understanding a word Fox just said. "Dozer and his brother Junker are excellent fighters, and great at what they do, but a life o' hard drugs and constant knocks to their noggins has left 'em both dumber than a Brahmin's behind." This time the soldier didn't even lift his head. "F-fuck…you…" Fox's expression suddenly turned sour, and he ground his cigarette into a bullet wound in the man's shoulder, causing him to cry out in shock and pain. "You already said that."

Fox stood back up, and started pacing slowly in front of the soldier, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "I hate the NCR, cuz they are always takin' things that don't belong to them. Yer fancy-pants president thinks that because we don't have a corrupt, bureaucratic shit storm of a government tellin' us what to do, we ain't 'civilised'. I don't want a fucker in a suit takin' all of my caps to pay for his fancy houses and whores, s'what they call taxes. I know, I've been to Shady Sands, The Hub, Boneyard. I've seen yer precious 'civilisation'. I weren't impressed. The Mojave don't need it. I told the boys that signing a piece of paper was a stupid idea, but they did it anyway. The Treaty fucked the Desert Rangers, My Rangers. We lost our identity. But I served my time. I gave the NCR eleven years of my life." Fox leant in towards the soldier, lifting his chin to look him in the eyes. "You know what they gave me? A pair of pretty dog tags and a dead brother. I didn't want neither. So I decided to finally leave, and I started fighting for something I thought was right. Y'know, back at Golf, I had a real nice room, cushy bed and delicious food. And now I'm here" He spread his arms wide, and turned slowly, taking the large, gloomy open space of the cave. "An I'm happier than I've ever been."

"What…bout me?" The NCR soldier managed. Fox leant down and dramatically put his hand to his ear. "Wassat? Sorry son, what was yer name, Vincent? Vincent, you gotta speak up" Vincent coughed, and looked into Fox's eyes, seething with hate and rage. "What…happens to me?" Fox stood up again, and rubbed a hand through his thick beard. "Well, I'm gonna hand you over to the Doc, and he's gonna look after ya, let ya rest up some, so's that my friends Dozer and Junker can continue torturin' ya. They need the practice." He turned to Dozer, speaking loudly and clearly.

"Take him to the Doc, boys" The brothers grinned again, and with a grunt picked up the chair and soldier, and lumbered off down a tunnel, deeper into the cave system. Fox was about to follow when he heard footsteps coming from the tunnel that lead to the surface. Moving with a swift efficiency gained from years as a ranger, Fox darted across the cave and grabbed an assault rifle from a table, and disappeared into the shadows along the edge of the cave. He watched the entrance as the sounds of footsteps got louder, eventually revealing Ruby and Ricky entering the cave. They walked straight over to the fire pit in the centre of the space, whilst Fox circled silently around them.

As they set down and started to relax, Fox stepped up smartly behind them and aimed his rifle at the back of first Ricky's head, then Ruby's. "Bang, bang. Yer both dead. Don't you listen to anything I teach ya?" The two younger Pirates span around, automatically reaching for their weapons until they realised that it was Fox. Ricky threw his shotgun down in annoyance and stood up, pulling his goggles down. "For fuck's sake, Fox. I keep telling you that no-one knows where we are, no NCR fucktard is gonna find this place or set an ambush, so no, we don't need to be careful whenever we come in!"

Fox rested his weapon across his shoulders, and gave Ricky an appraising look. Seemingly ignoring what the younger man said, he turned his attention to the still sitting Ruby. "What're ya doin' back? Your route shoulda taken you another two days." Ruby glared into the fire, and spat into it. "Short-fuse, Washington and Jacob met up with us; apparently they were setting an ambush for a big Crimson Caravan convoy that was going past Nipton. Said they'd clear out the rest of our route on their way there. We were out there two weeks already Fox, so's everyone else. If you actually ever let the Inbred Twins outside, we could get some more fucking rest. You and the Doc can look after each other. Besides, you got Moleman."

Before Fox could reply, the sounds of clomping boots and scraping came from deeper in, and Moleman entered the cave. Fox had found the old ghoul in the cave that he now called home when he had hid in it to avoid a particularly bad sandstorm. Moleman never went outside in the daytime, and he never took of the bulky protective mining suit-gasmask combo that hid his weathered appearance from other's view. You could believe he was a normal human if his voice didn't sound like someone had attacked his vocal cords with a piece of sandpaper. He had a bad limp, and walked around with the support of an aluminium baseball bat. Moleman seemed to care not one bit about the Desert Pirates crusade against the NCR, he allowed them to live in his cave because he liked the company, and in exchange he cooked and generally looked after the Pirates when they made their short breaks in the cave after weeks out on the road. He made his way steadily into the main cavern breathing heavily through the mask. He looked at the three Pirates in silence for a few moments, as they looked back at him, waiting for him to react.

Eventually Moleman stumped over to an open scrap metal shelter built in the cave where he prepared food, and started bustling around, taking out a large metal pot and selecting various vegetables and foodstuffs from the shelves. Fox raised an eyebrow. "You okay there, Moleman?" The ghoul didn't look around, just gruffly called over his shoulder as he chopped up some potatoes. "Yup. You guys hungry?" Fox coughed. "Sure, what ya cookin' up?" "Stew. Got some bighorner meat that needs eatin'"

Fox was going to offer to help, when for the third time in as many minutes, the sound of pounding feet coming down the entrance tunnel. A tall thin man in a blue jacket and an old cowboy hat ran into the cavern. He had a pistol in either hand, and blood spattered his trousers. Fox walked over to him, concerned. "Harley? What's going on?" The man called Harley stopped in front of the old ranger, and leant forwards, his hands on his knees as he gasped for breath. He composed himself, and holstered his guns. "Fox, I was interrogating a military police guy that works at the Embassy. Apparently he saw the Courier going in there this morning. The same day that Brigadier General Hsu turned up unannounced." Fox stroked his beard, and walked slowly in a wide circle, the other Pirates watching him, waiting for his verdict on the information.

"So, the Courier is helpin' out the NCR again, huh? I wonder what Hsu has got planned for him." Ricky stood up from where he had been slouched by the fire, and approached Fox, his muscles tensed with nervous energy. "You reckon the NCR brass have finally caught on to what we're doing?" "Very possible son, with Oliver out of the way, the actual smart guys can get on with things. Hsu doesn't mess around, with anything. I have a feeling that the enigmatic 'saviour of the Mojave' has been put on our scent like a goddam bloodhound." Ruby stood too. "What does this mean? Do we hide out for a while?" Fox scoffed. "I don't care how good this guy is, one man is one man. I know more than most what one man can do, but we continue with the plan. I want Hsu's boots filled with piss before I come for him." Harley, a normally quiet man, preferring to talk with his pistols, seemed troubled. "So that's what you think? We're just gonna ignore the Courier?" Fox span around, and slammed the butt of his rifle into Harley's jaw, throwing him to the ground.

Knowing better to try and fight back, the ex-mercenary stayed on the ground where he had fallen, rubbing his chin. Fox stood over him, the normally cheerful look in his eyes replaced with the cruel harness that was always poised to reveal itself. "Yes, we do Harley. We ignore the Courier, because if you've done yer fuckin' job properly, he won't have any fuckin' clue on where to look. Right?" "Right" Harley spat out, standing up slowly. Fox smiled. "Good, I appreciate this information. Yer a good man Harley, but I like ya better when yer quiet."


End file.
